Wishful Thinking
by cgal120
Summary: [Discontinued. Being rewritten as "As The Tables Turn"] After being invited to visit, Arthur is now stuck in Alfred's home with him as a torrential storm floods the streets. During that storm, the pair argue and say something that leads to Alfred learning a lesson he won't soon forget. M for later chapters.
1. The Wish

_**Wishful Thinking**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**The Wish**_

Rain cascaded down the large window panes sending shadows of the ripples flowing into the large room. Wind was howling around the large, solitary building, whistling and creating the illusion of screaming.

A messy haired blonde was curled up in an arm chair, headphones in and reading a book by the dim light of the reading lamp next to him. He smiled as the various punk singers drowned out the sound of the torrential storm raging outside. He was dressed in simple grey sweatpants and a pale green t-shirt which matched the bright eyes scanning the page carefully before turning it over and continuing to read. After a while, he looked over to the other blonde in the room. He was sprawled out across the sofa, his headphones connect to a Nintendo 3DS, playing what was most likely a horror video game. He was dressed similarly to the first blonde, but his sweatpants were black and his shirt was a shade of blue that rivalled the intense shade of his eyes. He was taller than the messy haired blonde, and his feet hung from the arm of the sofa as he distracted himself from the storm the best he could. Both blondes jumped as a thunderous boom shook the building and the shorter blonde pulled his headphones out and hurried over to the window.

"Oh, my God!" he said nervously, a flash of lightning illuminating the scene outside. "Alfred… we're flooded in!"

Alfred, who had been clutching his chest with fright, looked up at the messy blonde by the window.

"What? Arthur, you better not be messing around," he said, his nerves emphasising his American accent. Arthur looked at him incredulously, his green eyes flashing and his own British accent growing.

"Why the bloody fuck would I joke about a fucking flood, you dunce?" he snapped.

"Some sick sense of humour?"

"I should be the one questioning your humour!"

"Huh?"

"You invite me into _your_ country to visit for some reason, only to get stuck in the damn house with you because you decide to take me to one of the places we couldn't escape if one of your freak storms happened! And look! Look! We're stuck!"

"Wow, you ramble when you're pissed."

Arthur turned back to the storm, choosing to ignore the American nation so that no blood was shed. Honestly, the boy never thought before he spoke sometimes. It was rather infuriating, and Arthur often found himself finding some way of venting his annoyance; whether it be beating up Francis or simply going for a walk. He could do neither at that moment, so simply sat down, put his music in his ears again and shut his eyes.

Alfred stared at him for a moment before lying down and carrying on with his game. He didn't understand why Arthur was so mad at him. All he had saw was that he rambled when he got angry. Also, why was he so pissed about the weather? It was a freak storm! They happened everywhere! Before either could say another word, a simultaneous drum of thunder and burst of lightning happened, making them both yell in shock, jump and crash to the floor. They looked at each other around the coffee table and burst into laughter. It last for a little while, both sitting up and disentangling themselves from their headphone chords.

"Well," Arthur chuckled, leaning against the armchair. "That was certainly an effective way to kill the tension."

"Yeah!" Alfred smiled. "It was almost like when I was a child."

"Hmmm…"

"It's been a while since I last saw you laugh so freely like that."

"I've not had much to laugh about…"

"Well, that's because you're so aloof about everything," Alfred stated. "You need to let go every once in a while."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "You're too optimistic sometimes. However, I will have you know, there _have_ been times in my life where I have let go. But those times have passed."

"You always act so… mature," Alfred observed. "I know that you've had centuries of experience, but you're still young. You're 23. Live a little!"

Arthur, surprisingly, smiled softly at the American. "I have lived. That's why I am taking this break!"

"Dude, how much of a break do you need? You've been this way since the millennium. It's April! In 2011!"

"As you pointed out earlier, I have had centuries of life."

"I know what I'll do! Come Easter, I'll take you on an Easter egg hunt!"

Arthur laughed again, making Alfred grin. He didn't know why, but seeing Arthur laugh like that (and knowing that it was he who had caused it) made him feel free and happy. He had no idea why, but he had the urge to hug the Brit. He didn't though. He simply sat watching him, listening to his laugh. He heard it so rarely, it was almost like music to him; a song he forever wanted to leave on repeat. After a while, Arthur realised that the American was staring at him and faintly blushed.

"Why are you staring at me, git?" Arthur questioned, feeling unnerved by the silent staring from across the room. Alfred blinked, ten blushed at getting caught.

"S-sorry," he stuttered. "I honestly had no idea I was!"

"Well, it was awkward so stop!"

"Aw, I made you blush!"

"You blushed t-"

His sentence was cut short by another simultaneous blast of thunder and lightning. He yelled in shock and hid his face, genuinely scared. Alfred was unsure what to do. He was frightened too, but as he looked over the Brit before him, he saw him shaking as he curled into himself. He didn't know whether he should go over and comfort him or if he'd get kicked in the balls if he touched him. He was a hero, damn it! Why was this so hard?

"Arthur?"

The Brit jumped again, looking up at Alfred; his green eyes dotted with tears and a blush on his face. Alfred had never seen him look that scared before. Especially during a storm. Alfred could clearly remember the times he had curled up on the sofa or climbed into bed with Arthur during a storm, and the Brit had always protected him. He had kept a calm aura around him during storms, distracting the child from the scary noises and lights. Said child now watched the same man with older eyes, finally realising something he had never been able to back then; Arthur was scared too.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine!"

"You don't seem fine," Alfred argued. "Why did you never tell me you were afraid of storms?"

"At the time, it never mattered," Arthur explained. "You would always come to me upset, so I'd do my best to distract you. That distracted me, so storms never bothered me near you."

"You should have told you me."

"Alfred, there wasn't a point," Arthur sighed. "Knowing I was scared would only have scared you more. I was trying to protect you."

"That's stupid! I could handle myself! I'd have told you if I was scared!"

Arthur shook his head. "You clearly have no idea how difficult raising a child is."

"It can't be too hard. You did it."

"Alfred, you were a handful! You could run circles around me and not get tired! I had no idea what the fuck I was doing! Clearly, I didn't do a good job…"

"Childcare is easy Alls you need to do is feed 'em, clean 'em, play with 'em and change 'em."

"My God! You are so naïve! Do you honestly believe that that was all I had to do! My needs were second to yours because I knew, despite my own childhood, that you needed more than me! I pushed my fears away for a while to protect you from yours!"

"Pfft," Alfred scoffed. "Whatever…"

"I really did fuck up caring for you," Arthur said, not looking at Alfred. He stood up, his body illuminated by the flashes outside. "You are an ungrateful bastard! I WISH YOU COULD SO HOW DIFFICULT IT WAS LOOKING AFTER YOU!"

Alfred stood up too, glaring at Arthur fiercely. "SO DO I!"

An explosive boom of thunder happened and the room was lit with a flash of lightning so bright they both had to close their eyes. Alfred fell backwards onto the sofa, yelling in shock. When he opened his eyes again, he looked to where Arthur was stood to see he had disappeared.

"Arthur?" Alfred called. "Where are you?"

He got up and had a look around the living room, seeing no trace of Arthur anywhere. He'd probably run away to sulk. Alfred shook his head, then looked up as he heard a noise upstairs. Smiling slightly to himself, Alfred climbed the stairs and head towards Arthur's room. The British nation had been staying in Alfred's home, so it made sense he would run there to hide. He opened the door slowly and peaked inside.

"Arthur?" he asked. "Are you in here? I'm sorry for upsetting you." He entered the room carefully, looking around and flinching as another flash of lightning happened. He saw a lump in the bed covers, but because it was small he assumed it to be a soft toy. However, as another flash and rumble happened, the American saw the lump move as though something had jumped beneath it. Alfred moved to the bed and lifted the covers to see a small bundle of green on the mattress. It was shaking, making soft noises that sounded like sobs and it shifted to look up at whatever had stolen it's shield from the storm revealing messy blonde hair, green eyes and large eyebrows.

"Arthur?"

_**Notes:**_

_**Me: Hello! So, as I had mentioned before, this is one of the stories I have been working on as a side project to **_The Heart Never Lies_** and**_ The Kids From Yesterday_**. I hope you enjoy reading this story and check out my others. And for those of you who reviewed and didn't want to read TKFY, this story has no mpreg in it. Just clearing that now. **_NO MPREG_**. That is all! :]**_


	2. Tale of a Toddler

_**Wishful Thinking**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Tale of a Toddler**_

"How do you know my name?" Arthur asked, his voice a higher pitch and wavering in fear. "Who are you? Where am I?"

Alfred sat down on the bed next to the toddler and smiled softly. So, their wish had come true? He could cope.

"My name is Alfred F Jones," he explained. "I'm the United States of America."

"America?" Arthur asked, sitting up as he slowly started to trust the blue-eyed man. "You're a nation like me?"

"Yes."

"I've never heard of America."

"It's a land in the west."

"Oh. So, how do you know me and where am I?"

"It's a long story as to how I know, but believe me, you are safe with me. I won't hurt you."

"Strangely, I believe you."

"You're at my house in America at the moment. By the way, how old are you?"

"Three."

Alfred smiled at him, Arthur smiling back. He was finally calm, forgetting about the storm outside. He crawled over and sat on Alfred's lap, the American watching him and holding him softly. Arthur rest his small, messy head against Alfred's stomach, yawning a little.

"Go to sleep if you want, Arthur," Alfred said, smoothing the boy's back. Arthur shook his head. "Is it 'cos you're scared of the storm?" A nod. "I'll stay with you if you want."

Arthur looked up at him. "Would you? I'm always alone! Please stay!" To make his point, his little hands gripped at Alfred's shirt as he looked pleadingly at him with bright, tear-glittered eyes. Alfred had honestly never seen anything more cute ever, so smiled and nodded, making the small Brit beam at him.

"Thank you, Alfred!"

"It's no problem," Alfred smiled, getting under the covers. Arthur crawled under with him, snuggling against his chest. He rest his head above Alfred's heart, the soothing steady beat lulling him into sleep.

"Night, Alfwed," he mumbled, sleep slurring his speech.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Alfred woke up the next morning to a crashing sound coming from the kitchen. It took a moment for Alfred to register what was going on and where he was, but as soon as he had he sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the room.

"Arthur?"

Neither adult nor child was in the room, so the American bolted out of bed to check around. He glanced out the bedroom window and saw that the storm had let up temporarily; the clouds were still thick and dark, meaning another storm was on the horizon. Sighing, Alfred hurried downstairs still hearing noises in the kitchen. Slowly, he entered the room and found the source of the noise.

Cupboard doors were hanging open, various boxes and utensils sprawled across the floor. Sat in the middle of the room, Arthur sat nibbling on an apple, a bowl on his head and a tin pot in front of him.

"Arthur, why didn't you wake me if you wanted food?"

"I'm used to fending for myself. It was no problem."

"I'd have happily got you food," Alfred smiled, sitting on the floor in front of him. "Besides, the kitchen's a mess now."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said quietly, thinking that he was in trouble. He was surprised to feel not a fist but a soft hand ruffling his hair. He looked up at Alfred with bright confused eyes, seeing the American smiled. "You're not mad?"

"You didn't know any better, so of course I'm not mad," Alfred said brightly, twirling the bowl he'd removed from Arthur's head. The toddler looked up at him for a moment longer before climbing onto his lap and hugging him.

"I thought you were going to hit me."

"Why would I hit you?"

"Everybody else does…"

Alfred rubbed Arthur's back soothingly. "Nobody will hit you when I'm with you. I won't let them."

"Really?"

"Really."

Arthur clutched Alfred's shirt and held him tighter; he'd never met anyone quite as kind as him and he never wanted to let him go. Alfred stood up, carried him to the living room and sat on the sofa. Arthur let go of him finally, watching as Alfred walked over to a large bookcase and carried a strange coloured object back to him.

"What's that?"

"A picture book!"

Arthur looked at him confusedly for a moment and then crawled into Alfred's lap again and looked as the taller nation opened the book in front of him and told him a story based on the wonderful bright images before him.

"Do the pictures tell you the words?"

"Sorta. See, the only things in here is pictures, so I can create tons of different stories using them."

"That's amazing!"

Alfred chuckled, and Arthur looked at him upside down and smiled at him brightly. Alfred smiled back resisting the urge to kiss the toddler on the forehead. He maybe a child but he was still Arthur.

"I know!" Alfred beamed. "While I sort the kitchen, you can sit here and come up with your own story. Then you can tell me it when I come back."

"Okay!" Arthur smiled, giggling a little as Alfred put him softly on the sofa. He watched Alfred leave the room, and then looked back at the picture book. He ran his small hands over the smooth paper delicately, trying to think of a story that he could tell Alfred. However, before he could think of anything a strange ringing noise happened. Arthur jumped and looked around, having no idea where the odd noise was coming from. He put the book on the sofa and then jumped down, climbing to the top of the bookcase for safety. He watched as Alfred hurried back into the room, noticing that the toddler was gone.

"Arthur?" he called, worry laced in his tone.

The toddler was surprised; no one had ever sounded worried about him before. He watched the American grow slightly more frantic before finally finding his voice.

"Up here…"

"What're you doing up there?"

"There's a scary noise…"

Alfred walked over to the book case and picked up the trembling toddler. Arthur clung to him and Alfred did his best to calm him.

"Come on, don't be scared! Didn't I promise I wouldn't let you get hurt?"

Arthur nodded. "But people have lied to be before."

"Well, I'm not lying. You are safe."

Arthur smiled and rest his head against him, watching as Alfred found the source of the ringing. The American held a small box to his ear and spoke.

"What do you want, French Fry?"

Arthur listened as a very familiar voice answered through the box.

"Amerique! Must you call me zat?"

"Yes."

"Very well! I was just calling to see 'ow you and Angleterre are doing. I 'eard of ze flood in your area."

"We're fine, Francis. It's-"

"How did you capture that frog in the tiny box?"

There was a moment of silence before Francis finally spoke up.

"Was zat Arthur?"

"Uh…"

"What's going on?"

Alfred explained everything, getting odd looks from Arthur.

"I guess you just 'ave to wait for it to wear off."

"Yeah…"

"Well, good luck!" He hung up, leaving Alfred staring at the phone. He sighed and put it down on the table. He flopped back onto the sofa, Arthur sat facing him on his lap. Alfred was confused by the expression on the toddler's face.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"A-are you friends with France?"

"Not exactly…"

"Then, why did you tell him I was here? Now he's gunna come pick on me more!"

Alfred ruffled Arthur's hair and smiled reassuringly at him. "What did I promise you, Arthur?"

"Uh…"

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

"But!"

"Arthur, for once, believe me! I'm a hero, after all!"

Arthur giggled. "Heroes aren't real!" His smiled faded. "If they were then surely someone would have stopped everyone from picking on me…"

"Heroes are real," Alfred smiled. "I'll be your hero."

Arthur's smile returned and he looked up at Alfred thoughtfully.

"Why would you want to protect me?" the toddler asked. "I'm one of the smallest nations in the world."

"But I know that one day, you will be great and strong."

"Really?"

"Really."

Arthur hugged Alfred tightly, the American smiling and rubbing his back gently.

Alfred prepared lunch for them a short while later, grinning as Arthur ate happily, kicking his little legs out in front of him.

"Do you like it, Arthur?"

"Ummmmm hmmmmm!"

The only problem, as Alfred was shocked to discover, was the fact that Arthur was a messy eater. He had food smeared up his face, on his tiny body and little crumbs in his messy blonde hair. He smiled up at Alfred who couldn't help but think it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

"Come here," Alfred said, sitting Arthur on his lap. Arthur fidgeted a little as Alfred picked the larger crumbs from his hair. "I think it's bath time!"

"No!" Arthur cried, trying to get away. Alfred kept his hold on him, trying not to hurt him and carried him upstairs. He entered the bathroom and started to run the bath. He held the struggling toddler in one arm and sorted the bath with the other. Once it was the right temperature, he added some bubbles and carefully stripped Arthur and put him in the tub. Arthur looked around him, giggling at this distorted reflection in the bubbles. After a moment, he started trying to pop them, so Alfred sat next to the bath and took some bubbles into his hand. He blew them into the air, smiling as Arthur watched them float around him. He put up no fight as Alfred washed his hair with two sweet smelling liquids, closing his eyes so the water didn't go in them. It was only when he realised Alfred was going to wash him with the red cloth in his hands did Arthur struggle to get away.

"No! I can do it myself!"

"You sure?"

"Yes. You can check afterwards if you must."

"Okay," Alfred nodded, handing Arthur the cloth.

The toddler smiled and washed himself, actually doing a pretty good job. He gave the cloth back to Alfred, who smiled and let him play for a bit. He laughed, getting soaked as Arthur splashed the water at him. He splashed a little back, making the toddler laugh. When there were only a few islands of bubbles floating around the child, Alfred grabbed a fluffy white towel from the rack, picked Arthur out of the water and wrapped the towel around his tiny body. He pulled the plug as Arthur snuggled into the towel for warmth.

"It's so fluffy!" he smiled.

Alfred chuckled and helped dry him off, redressing him into his tiny tunic. Arthur looked up at him, smiling innocently. Alfred grinned back and then looked out of the window. Rain was pouring heavily once again and the sky was hidden by thick black clouds. Arthur shuffled closer to Alfred, his minute hands clutching at his trousers. Alfred looked down at him, confused for a moment. The he remembered that Arthur didn't like storms.

Both nations jumped as a loud burst of thunder happened, Arthur looking up at Alfred. He looked confused and scared, his eyes glittered with tears.

"Alfred?" he asked, still clinging to his leg. "Why did you jump too?"

"It… The thunder made me jump…"

"Does it scare you too?"

Alfred paused. He knew how scared Arthur was of the storm; the look on his face was enough to confirm that. The problem was forming in his mind as he looked down at the green eyed child. He had never seen so much fear in his eyes; those eyes that usually had an acidic glow to them, holding such strength.

"No," Alfred lied. "I'm not scared. Let's go find something to do."

"When I was on the bookcase earlier, I saw lots of water out of the window," Arthur said.

"Uh… Yeah… The storm's flooded us in," Alfred replied.

"Are we safe?" Arthur asked. "I maybe an island, but I'm still small!"

"Arthur, we'll be fine. There's a magical charm around the house keeping the water out. Plus, I won't let anything happen to you."

Arthur only looked a little convinced, so Alfred lift him up and sat him on his shoulder. Arthur squeaked in surprise, then giggled and hugged Alfred's head. The American smiled and walked out of the bathroom; neither realising the growing intensity of the storm. Alfred took Arthur into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. Arthur watched him as he grabbed something nearby. Alfred sat next to him and Arthur looked up at him in confusion. Alfred smiled at him and showed him a book that made the child's eyes light up; Treasure Island. He read the book over Arthur's shoulder, letting the minute nation look at the story. When he was finished, Alfred looked down at the child as he turned on his lap and smiled at him. He grinned back, really enjoying looking after him. Arthur has a look in his eyes that Alfred couldn't quite place, but he wasn't surprised with what the child said to him.

"I'd love to sail the ocean, he smiled. "I'd have to be careful in case I fell of the edge, but it seems like so much fun."

Alfred chuckled at the comment, remembering that Arthur was still only a child at that moment. That was when a thought occurred to him. What if Arthur never returned to normal? Would he have to look after him for centuries until he returned to normal? He knew in an instant that he would do so, but the idea still scared him a little.

"Alfwed?" Arthur yawned, tugging on Alfred's shirt to pull him from his thoughts. The American looked down at him, seeing the 3 year old rub his eyes and yawn. "I'm sleepy…"

"Well, it is kind of late," Alfred said.

"I-if I go to bed no," Arthur asked uncertainly. "W-will you stay with me again?"

"Of course I will, Arthur," smiled the American.

After sorting them out for bed, Alfred lift the covers and let Arthur crawl under them. The tiny Briton smiled and snuggled up to Alfred when the American laid down.

"Night, Alfwed."

"Nigh, Arthur."

Alfred watched as Arthur fell asleep, slowly drifting off himself. Neither were aware of the on going storm outside the house; though the wind was howling, the thunder crashing and the rain splashing. A bright flash of lightning engulfed the room with white light, and Alfred (though still asleep) felt the weight on his chest increase.

_**Notes:**_

_**Me: Wow. It has been a while since I have updated this story… Sorry about that. I've been working on it in my creative writing classes and finally finished handwriting it last week, the only problem was finding time to type it up. But, I'm all but finished with school so I have more time! So, what do you think will happen next? Look out for the next chapter to find out!**_


	3. The Vikings Are Coming

_**Wishful Thinking**_

_**Chapter Three**_

_**The Vikings Are Coming**_

When Alfred awoke the next morning, he rubbed his head and looked around the room trying to remember what had happened that evening. He could remember Arthur and something happening, but that was about it. He looked around his bedroom and down at his empty bed, confused as to why it looked like two people had slept in it. He knew that he was a restless sleeper sometimes, but it really did look as though he had spent the night with someone.

A blush grew on his face as he realised that the only other person in the house was Arthur, so if anyone had slept in his bed last night it would have been him. He got out of bed quickly and looked down at himself; he was in pyjamas so it must have been something innocent. He knew from past experiences that if he'd have done something, he would have woken up naked.

"Arthur?" he called out, jumping slightly when he heard a clatter in the kitchen downstairs. He paused for a moment as he heard light footsteps running upstairs, opening the bedroom door to look outside of it.

"Alfred!" came a high pitched voice, Alfred only getting a slight glimpse of something blonde before getting tackled down onto the floor.

"Ah!" he yelped, looking up and seeing a very young and small Arthur sitting on him with an innocent grin on his face. He blinked as a small giggle escaped the boy, finally remembering that Arthur had been turned into a child. "Arthur, what are you doing? How old are you?"

"I'm six!" Arthur grinned, laughing as Alfred sat up and made him roll onto his lap. "Alfred! There's water all around the house!"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, we're flooded in. The storm's been pretty bad."

Arthur grinned. "I want to go out in it!" he laughed. "It looks fun!"

Rolling his eyes a little, Alfred picked the boy up under his arm and carried him making him giggle and wriggle. "You can't go out in it; it's dangerous."

"Noooooooo!" Arthur whined. "I want to go put up a block!"

Alfred blinked and held Arthur normally, looking at him confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"Denmark and Norway!" Arthur cried. "I keep hearing stuff that they're going to try and invade me! I don't want that to happen!"

Alfred bounced Arthur slightly as he walked downstairs to the kitchen where it seemed that Arthur had been trying to get himself some food again. He sat the boy on the kitchen counter and smiled at him. "No one is going to invade you," he said. "Not while I'm here. I won't let them."

"But you've not been there," Arthur said, looking up at him. "I haven't seen you in ages. How are you meant to protect me if you're not there?"

Alfred blinked, getting a very bad case of déjà vu as he remembered a time that he had asked Arthur the very same. He thought for a moment, looking at the scared boy. Arthur hadn't been there from time to time, but for the entire time of being a colony Alfred couldn't remember a time that he had to deal with an invading country. Arthur had dealt with it. But looking down at the small boy before him, Alfred realised that Arthur hadn't had anyone to help him like that. Francis had picked on him, his brothers had picked on him… Everyone that was meant to be there for him had turned against him.

Now he understood why it took a lot for Arthur to trust someone.

"Arthur, I promise you, you're not gonna be alone anymore," Alfred said, smoothing the boy's arm.

"Promise?" Arthur asked, looking up at him.

"Promise," Alfred smiled, ruffling Arthur's hair gently. Arthur giggled a little and opened his arms, Alfred leaning down and picking him up in a hug.

"I love you, Alfred," Arthur smiled, nuzzling against him.

Alfred blinked and blushed a little before hugging Arthur closer and holding the back of his head. "I love you too, Arthur," he said. "Now, let's get you some food."

Arthur nodded and smiled, watching Alfred as he put him down on a seat at the kitchen table. He watched the American move over to the cupboard, leaning down and pulling out a bowl and a box. Alfred poured out some cereal and put some milk onto it, putting a spoon into the bowl before putting it in front of Arthur.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's called cereal," Alfred smiled, sitting down with a bowl of his own. "It really tasty, trust me." To prove his point, Alfred picked up his spoon and started to eat his cereal. Arthur smiled and started to eat too, humming a little as he was surprised by the lovely taste.

After breakfast, Alfred had the same battle with he had had the day before to get Arthur into the bathroom, but in the end he managed to get him washed and dressed. He took Arthur back downstairs, looking around the living room for something for them to do. He couldn't find anything, but when he looked around he noticed Arthur was knelt on the window sill with his hands pressed against the glass. He was looking out at the water, mainly out into the distance as if searching for something.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Alfred asked, moving over to him.

"I wonder what it's like having freedom like they do?" he asked quietly.

"Like who do?" Alfred asked.

"Denmark and Norway," Arthur said, looking up at Alfred. "Everyone seems to have freedom except me… The bishop chases me when I have long hair, everyone picks on me because I'm small… If I ever get a little brother, I'll do everything I can for them even if they don't want me to… I'll make sure they don't get hurt by the bigger countries or feel scared and lonely…"

Alfred blinked and picked Arthur up, hugging him close to him. "Trust me when I say this Arthur, you do that and more. You will find that little brother one day and you make him very happy."

Arthur looked up at him, tearing up a little. "Really?"

Alfred nodded and kissed his forehead. "Really, Arthur."

Arthur sniffed and rest his head on Alfred, clutching his shirt. He looked up at Alfred and kissed his cheek quickly, blushing a little before hiding his face. Alfred blinked then smiled softly at him, kissing his head and holding close.

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

For the rest of the day, Alfred noticed things about Arthur change slightly to aspects that he normally wouldn't be able to imagine. For instance, Arthur was at first quiet as he walked around trying to find something to do, but soon he started to run around madly and laugh. He shouted in Old English and started to make toy weapons out of things laying around the house. Alfred found that he had to confiscate a few of the items, which then in turn made Arthur's bottom lip wobble. Alfred would pick him up though as he started to cry, rocking him and humming until the boy would stop.

It was now 5 in the afternoon, and Alfred was sitting at the kitchen table. He figured that it would be too much hassle to make a big dinner so he had made himself and Arthur some sandwiches instead. He looked around, hearing silence for once despite having called Arthur to come eat a few minutes ago.

Confused, the American got to his feet and walked through the hallway to the living room and looked inside. He couldn't see any sign of life, so moved inside a bit more to investigate further. "Arthur?" he called out, trying to find the small boy. He was starting to get worried now. What if he had gone outside and got dragged away in the flood? What if he was taken? What if-

"WAH!" Arthur cried, jumping out of nowhere onto Alfred's back and clinging to his neck. Alfred shouted in shock, but held Arthur up as the boy laughed manically and nuzzled against his neck. "I'm a Viking, Alfred!"

"Are you really?" Alfred laughed, lifting Arthur above his head and holding him upside down above him. Arthur laughed more and reached down to hold Alfred's cheeks, grinning cutely.

"Uh huh!" Arthur giggled. "Mathias and Eirik aren't as bad as I thought they were going to be! This is fun! But they said I'm too little to do stuff like pillaging."

Alfred blinked slightly. "Of course you're not!" he said. "Why don't we go have something to eat though…"

"Okay!" Arthur grinned, holding onto Alfred as he carried him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and started to eat the sandwich waiting for him sloppily, Alfred chuckling slightly as he sat and ate his own sandwich. He watched as Arthur devoured the meal quickly, the boy grinning brightly and waiting for Alfred to finish his food before climbing over the table and sitting in front of him.

"Yes?" Alfred chuckled, folding his arms on Arthur's legs as the boy put his feet on his lap. Arthur giggled again and leapt forwards, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and hugging the American tightly.

"I love you, Alfred," he smiled, nuzzling against him. "Don't ever leave or forget me okay?"

"I won't, Arthur," Alfred smiled, but then looked around as he saw the sky darkening once more. Arthur clung to him, watching the storm start up again before hiding against his neck in fear. "Let's go to my room and I'll read you a story, okay?" Arthur nodded so Alfred picked him up carefully and took him up to his bedroom and sat him on the bed gently. Arthur climbed under the bedcovers and hid whilst Alfred closed the curtains tightly and shut the door.

Looking around his room, Alfred soon found an old book of fairytales Arthur had brought to him one day. It was beaten, worn and old but Alfred still enjoyed reading the tales. He got under the covers with Arthur, the boy hugging his side as Alfred put one arm around him and opened the book on their laps.

"_Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life…_"

After a few hours, Arthur had fallen asleep on Alfred so the American set the book down and kissed the boy's head. He laid back and held him, smiling slightly to himself as he thought over the time with this child Arthur so far; he had been a good big brother, he hoped.

He too fell asleep, Arthur changing once more as lightning flashed through the stormy sky.

_**Notes:**_

_**Oh my God, it's been a very long time since I've updated this… But the muse for it came back spontaneously so I went with it! Anyways, kudos to the person who can guess the fairytale Alfred read. And yes. Arthur was a Viking child in this chapter. Mathias and Eirik are Denmark and Norway. Hopefully I can have the next chapter up sooner than this one was.**_


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